


Brotherhood

by Shinehollow



Series: Family Ties [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Gore, Internalized Homophobia, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-05-16 07:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14806667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinehollow/pseuds/Shinehollow
Summary: After being saved by a wild young Assassin, George realizes that there are some secrets you take to the grave.





	1. Chapter 1

 Everyday was the same thing. Get up. Go to the mill. Crush grain and only grain for God knew how many hours. Go home. Eat. Maybe go out for a drink, if he had enough money left and he wasn't more tired than normal. Maybe even start a bar fight. Sleep. Repeat. It had been the same for nearly twenty years. If this was all life had in store for him, George wasn't sure if he wanted it. 

 It had been another uneventful day at the mill, and George slowly trudged home along the riverbank. He would quit, if he could. If he hadn't been in that mill for almost as long as he'd been alive. It was the only thing he knew how to do.

 He was too deep in thought to notice the shadows that crept along the walls until they were running at him. He took a step back, glancing behind him, before looking back at the group. There were five of them, looking like they were part of some gang, and they undoubtedly had knives. Maybe one had a gun. George never usually carried a weapon, as some dark part of him was hoping he'd get injured enough-maybe even die- so he wouldn't have to go back to the mill anymore. And here was his chance.

 "What the fuck do you want?" he asked casually, and the leading figure spoke up. "Just taking what's ours." A flicker on the roofs caught George's eye, but when he looked up there was no one there. He shrugged it off- a bird, probably- staring at the leader. "And if I don't give anything to you?"

 "We always get what we want," hissed another, drawing their knife. George spread his arms, smiling. "Or what? You'll kill me?" 

 "Enough!" One of the thieves at the back called, pulling a revolver from their coat. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a shadow dropped down and slid a blade into his throat. The shadow was back up quickly, tripping up one of the thieves that had rushing him in anger. "Easy," the shadow purred as he dove the blade into his chest just as he hit the ground. Two of the others had rounded on George, who took a step back, chuckling. He usually held up somewhat in a bar fight, never won, but these people were scared for their lives. People always fought harder when faced with death.

 A gunshot rang out, and one of the attackers dropped dead, a bullet wound in his chest. The other one jumped, holding out his knife with a shaking hand. Another gunshot rang out, and the lone survivor took a step towards George. He was quietly whispering under his breath, panicky, "What the fuck? What the  _fuck?"_

 "Come on, don't be like that," came the smooth voice of the shadow, and two arms wrapped around the man's throat. He caught George's eye for a moment, looking absolutely terrified, before the shadow drew his blades across his throat. The thief dropped, and George was left staring at the man who saved his life.

 He was younger than George, but not by much. He lowered the cowl, a smile on his face. George stared at the bloodied blades on the man's arms. "Who are you?" he asked, not so much for a name, but an occupation. No man-barely a man- could fight that well without some sort of background influence. The man disengaged the blades. "I supposed I should tell you. I'm Ethan Frye." He held out his hand, and George stared at the barely visible blade beneath his robes. "No. I didn't ask for your name, I asked who you were," George said, and Ethan dropped his hand. He stared at the ground, head tilted, in a silence that unnerved George.

 Finally, he let out a breath, leaning close, wrapping an arm around George's shoulders. "I shouldn't really tell you, but hell, why not. I think you're trustworthy," he said, engaging his blade on his free hand. "I'm a member of a secret Brotherhood. We're called the Assassin Order. We fight to help the oppressed, and," Ethan added, gesturing at the dead bodies that surrounded them, "to fight against the Templar Order." He stepped away from George, turning with a smile that, for some reason, drove George wild. "You could join us. Outsiders have joined before. You're strong, we could use you."

 This was what he wanted. A chance to get away from the mill. However, despite the excitement he was beginning to feel, George couldn't help but be suspicious. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" Ethan leaning in close again, sending a thrill through George. "I told you my name."

  _What an answer,_ George thought, biting his tongue.  _What if you're using a fake one?_

"If you want to talk to me again, you'll probably find me at the school," Ethan said, gesturing at himself. "I work there during the day." He pivoted on his heel, turning to leave, but George called out after him, "I never told you my name." Ethan turned back, a curious yet relieved expression in his eyes. "I'm George Westhouse."

 "Well, hopefully, I'll see you again, George," Ethan said with a smile. "Remember what I said." With that, he vanished like a ghost, and George stared at the spot where he'd been moments before. He shook his head violently, trying to forget what he felt when Ethan spoke. "What a night," he mumbled, rubbing his shoulder where Ethan had placed his hand. First, he was nearly mugged, then he was saved by a boy with more killing ability than himself, and finally was invited into the boy's secretive Brotherhood. Part of him thought it had to be a dream. Part of him hoped it was a dream.

  _I should really get out of here before someone else spots me,_ George said, glancing at the alley nearby. He looked back at the mill, barely visible in the moonlight, before starting on his way, feeling a sense of adventure he'd never felt before, and something else, too.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_I can't leave the mill._

When George had woken up the next morning, the sense of adventure had faded into anxiety. He sat up in bed, head in his hands.  _Am I really stupid enough to believe that there's something more than this?_ He dropped his hands, letting out a sigh. Still, what did he have to lose? He wasn't living for much right now. If Ethan killed him, nobody would care. Except maybe his boss, but that would just be because he'd have to find some other sap to take his place.

 Besides, he wanted to see Ethan again. He still couldn't figure out why he couldn't get his mind off the young Assassin. It drove him mad. He sighed again, drawing hand down his face, reaching for his watch with his other hand.  _Five thirty,_ he thought,  _no surprise there._  Ethan would probably be around the school at seven, which left George one and a half hours to get his ass in gear an actually make a choice.  _What's the worst that could happen?_ he asked himself again as he stood up, and again he answered,  _I could die._

 "You'll never know if you don't go, hm?" he told himself out loud. He'd picked up the habit of talking to himself a long time ago, trying to see if it would help his loneliness. It didn't, but the habit stuck. He shook his head, sighing. "Ethan said I shouldn't know about his Brotherhood, but he told me anyway. I should at least go talk to him about it," he reasoned with himself as he got dressed. He walked out into the sparsely furnished living room, grabbing his old coat, stopping, wondering if he should eat. He didn't eat the night before, and was starving. He decided not to, however, deciding to either buy something cheap in town or to steal something. He usually was above thievery, but he'd done it a couple times before, when he blew his money drinking. He was even pretty good at it, according to a woman who'd taken interest in him. He'd stolen from her, too, and she never even noticed, too enamored by his 'good' looks. 

 He walked out, slowly closing the door behind him, glancing up the way towards the mill before looking down at his watch.  _Five forty-five._ The mill was about fifteen minutes from his house, but he could still make his shift if he ran fast enough. Change his mind about this whole ordeal, keep living a normal life without being drawn into what he summed up to be an almost cult-like organization. Slowly, he turned and started making his way towards the mill.

* * *

 George arrived at six, the normal start of his shift, and he just stood some distance away, hidden in an alley nearby. If he approached now, he'd face some repercussions, maybe even be fired. He was never usually late, but he knew others that were. It wasn't an enjoyable experience, especially for a kid to see.

 Someone walked out of the mill, one of his superiors, looking down the way George had taken up. Undoubtedly he was looking for him. "That was quick," George breathed, pressing against the stone wall of the building. There were other people who could do his job-it wasn't hard to crush grain-but George had been with them ever since he was young. Suddenly not showing up without a word would, of course, raise some alarms. Part of him, the childish part of him, told him he should just go, take what ever they had in store for him, and, again, go back to a normal life. The other part of him told him he couldn't, not now, not with what he knew.  _Why did I come here anyway? To say goodbye to the only thing in my life I was sure of?_

The man walked back into the mill, yelling loud enough for George to hear from where he was. "Where the fuck is Westhouse? It's already five minutes past, he should be here!" George let out a soft chuckle, before glancing around the alley. It was starting to get busy, and he easy slipped into the crowd, walking back towards the square.

* * *

 On his way, he passed the spot where Ethan had saved him. It was blocked off, police still about, and George quickly stepped into another alley. He half-jogged onto another street, hands stuffed into his pockets. He thought about Ethan again, feeling again that strange longing. He was surprised to find his heart racing.  _They're dead, idiot. They're not going to hurt you now,_ he told himself, but the feeling didn't subside. He let out an angry sigh, pivoting towards the school.

 To his surprise, Ethan was already outside, talking to a woman who looked close to his age. He looked over, and his face lit up as he recognized George. "Great! I knew you'd come," Ethan said eagerly as George approached. He cast a sly glance at the woman standing next to him. "See? I told you he'd come." She rolled her eyes. "I never doubted you, Ethan. I was just pointing out that he  _might_ not show up."

 "Yeah, right," he said with a scoff. He turned back to George with a smirk. "I suppose I should introduce you. George, this is my wife, Cecily."

  _Wife_. George didn't know that that hurt so much.

 Cecily waved, before playfully shoving Ethan. "Hurry up. Class starts in ten minutes." He shoved her back. "Yeah, yeah.

 "You can spend the next couple of hours learning with Cecily. I've got to work," Ethan told him, gesturing back at the school. "Any questions?"

 "If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?" George asked. "You seem so young." Ethan started counting on his fingers. He stopped, dropping his hand, looking over at Cecily. "When did I got to India?"

 "Two years ago," she said, and Ethan turned back to George. "I'm seventeen." George stared at him in surprise. Ethan was only seventeen, and was already a highly trained-and skilled-killer. George was twenty-two and the only things he'd ever done were crush grain and drink until he passed out in attempts to add flare to his life. It never worked, but it sure as hell never stopped him from trying.

 Ethan pat George on the shoulder. "I've got to go. Don't let my wife change your mind about this." He stopped as Cecily shouted, "Hey!" He smirked at George, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Have fun," he said, walking back over to Cecily. They quietly talked, then embraced, Ethan saying louder, "Have a good day, love."

 "You too," she mumbled into his shoulder, and they stepped apart. Ethan picked up his bag and cane, heading towards the school, while Cecily strode towards George. "Isn't he just charming?" she asked as she approached, and George let out a hum of agreement, watching as Ethan disappeared. Cecily pat him on the back. "Come on. I've got some shopping to do. We can talk while doing that," she said, starting off towards the market. George cast a nervous glance around the courtyard, cursing his cowardice, before hurrying after Cecily.

* * *

 

 They had finished shopping quickly, and Cecily just wandered around aimlessly, carrying one bag while George carried another. "So you grew up in the mill?" She asked, glancing over at him. George nodded. "A lot of kids did. I was one of the lucky ones to reach adulthood unscathed." 

 "Are you sure about that?" she asked, and George didn't answer. She glanced at him again. "Ethan told me that, as Assassins, we need to help the ones who need it. The poor, the kids in the factories and the mills, you name it. Besides, our enemies are usually the ones running those things, so it's a win-win situation," she explained, before shoving George. "Let's go down by the river. I hear it's lovely this time of year." She started off towards the river, George watching her confused, before shaking his head and following.

 "How old are you?" he asked as he caught up. "Nineteen," she said casually, not bothered by the question. "What about you, Mister Westhouse? Twenty?" 

 "Twenty-two, actually," he answered. "You were close." She snapped her fingers. "Dammit. I was." She stopped on the bank, over looking the vast river that cut through Crawley. To her left, the police were still continuing their investigation, and George started to feel agitated again. "How did you meet him?" he asked, trying to take his mind off the police. "Oh, it wasn't as interesting as your meeting, I'm sure," Cecily said, gesturing over at the investigation. "I was born outside of Crawley, but on occasion my father would stop by to do business. I loved to go with my father, but if there was anything I loved more than those trips it was adventure. I'd visit pubs late at night, and one night I met a very, well, eccentric young lad." She smiled at the memory, pausing for a moment. "Ethan has a way of speaking, doesn't he? He speaks like a gentlemen, yet also like a man of the streets. Even when angry, his voice still has that smooth quality, almost like he's trying to flirt. Maybe that was part of the reason I was so attracted to him." She cast George a mischievous glance. "Maybe it was also my sense of adventure that made me join the Assassins and marry him." Cecily let out a dreamy sigh and said, "I think I made the right choice in the end."

 George nodded, trying to figure out why he felt like  _that_ around Ethan as Cecily checked her watch. "Ethan should be done any moment now," she said, and a smooth voice behind them asked, "Did someone say my name?" George jumped, his heart leaping into his throat, and Cecily smiled. "Speak of the devil," she said as she turned. "Hello, love." George turned slowly, and Ethan smiled at them. "Hello, Cecily dear. George. How was your day?"

 "Long," was all George had to say. At least at the mill the repetition was enough to make him zone out, so the day felt quick. Ethan gave him an apologetic glance. "Did she bore you?" Cecily punched Ethan in the shoulder. "I'm not boring!" He let out a laugh. "Just teasing, love." 

 They loved each other, that was sure. It made George jealous, and he meekly asked himself, _for who?_  

 Ethan looked back at George, the same loving smile on his face. "I think it's about time we head home. I need to send a letter to some _important people_." He added emphasis on important people, and George knew he meant Assassins. He felt a pang. Part of him didn't want to go back to his dreary house. If he did, he was worried he'd give up this Assassin thing and end up in the mill again.

 Ethan seemed to guess what he was thinking, as he asked, "Do you want to stay at my place?" When George didn't answer, he quickly said, "I mean, I know that you might not want to, but it'd be easier to train with you there, but you can just come for dinner if it's more-" 

 "No, I don't mind," George cut him off before Ethan could ramble more. "As long as there's a room for me to stay in." Ethan nodded somewhat vigorously. "Of course. I suspect you'd need to grab some of your things," he said, looking at his watch. He handed George a small piece of paper.  _He came prepared._ "Directions. I'll be standing outside, so you'll be able to tell which house is mine." He turned away, waving. "I'll see you later, hopefully." Cecily sighed. "He always adds 'hopefully' to everything. Sometimes you've got to think a man has enough hope, you know?" She waved. "See you," she said, before turning to follow.

 George stood there, watching them leave, clutching the small piece of paper in his hands. As he watched, he finally realized- _or maybe acknowledged-_ what it was that drove him wild. 

 He was in love with Ethan Frye.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 George stormed home in a rage, slamming the door behind him. He started angrily pacing in the small living room, kicking a chair over when he noticed it was in his way. After a while, he decided he might as well start packing some stuff, and turned to pacing in his room. After a while, he knelt down next to his bed, grabbing his pillow and shoving his face into it, and let out a muffled scream.

 He was in love with a man. A married man, no less. Even if Ethan wasn’t married he would still hate the fact. “Idiot,” he breathed, before letting out a laugh. “I guess it’s not like I had a choice in the matter,” he muttered into the pillow. “My life has always been a train wreck. This is just another carriage.”

 He lifted his head, surprised to find he was crying. God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to be with Ethan. But he’d never do that to Cecily. Besides, Ethan probably wouldn’t return his feelings, or at the very least risk what a relationship with a man would do to his reputation, both in his Order and the public. It was probably better that he’d let these feelings die, no matter how much it hurt to think about.

 He didn’t really want to ruin whatever friendship he and Ethan could have either. He stood up, looking back at his closet. “Pack, get yourself together, leave,” he told himself. “Stop beating yourself up over trivial shit like this.”

  _But is it really trivial?_ he countered himself silently, grabbing whatever good shirts he had and stuffing them into a bag. _If people find out you’ve fallen in love with a man, they’d never look at you the same way again._ He scoffed, opening up the beside table and grabbing a worn necklace he kept there and placed it around his neck. “As if anyone looks at me anyway.”

_They would when they learn._

 “They won’t-” he stopped before he could continue. “First you talk to yourself, and now you argue with yourself,” he muttered, swinging the bag over is shoulder. “You sure are something, Westhouse.” He ran a hand down his face, nearly tripping over the chair that he'd kicked out of the way. He let out a hiss, kicking it out of his way again before making his way towards the door. He stopped before he opened it, glancing back at the sparsely furnished room. He told himself he wouldn't miss this place, that he had too many bad memories about it, but he couldn't help but feel upset anyway. He touched the necklace, once, before walking out the door and slowly closing it behind him.

 He pulled the piece of paper Ethan had given him out of his pocket and his slid the necklace beneath his shirt. It was a crudely drawn map, with George's house in one corner, with a red line leading towards Ethan's in the other.  _How does he know where I live?_ he asked himself.  _Did he follow me home?_

 He could've, but it George believed it had something to do with Ethan's Order. He shook his head, taking a left. Ethan lived in one of the richer neighborhoods in the outskirts of Crawley. He couldn't help but feel jealous as he weaved through the crowd, glancing at the map. Some people were born with everything, it seemed. Meanwhile George had to go work at a mill as a child. 

 "You look grumpy," a smooth voice jolted George out of his thoughts, again. Ethan pat him on the shoulder. "You also look horrible. Are you okay?" George shrugged. "I'm fine." Ethan watched him for a moment, before letting out a disbelieving sigh. "If you say so." He went silent, and George was relieved he didn't press more. Either that, or Ethan knew out in the street wasn't the best place to talk, and was waiting for a more private place. "I'm surprised you agreed, actually," Ethan said after a moment. "Does that mean you really do want to join us?" 

 "Of course," George answered. "I'm not heading back to the mill, especially after missing a day. I'd be fired on the spot, and then what?" Ethan let out a hum of agreement, glancing at George. "I didn't know you wore a necklace," he muttered, turning to look back at the lane. George touched the gold chain that was barely visible above his shirt.  _Perceptive._ "It was my mother's. It was the only thing I had left from her after she died." 

 "I see," Ethan said. "My parents just left me a house, and entire area to watch over and a branch of Assassins to lead." He let out a nervous chuckle. "Which, isn't very many Assassins. There's Cecily, me, and soon, you." George glanced at him. "Why are there so little Assassins in this area? It's so close to London, wouldn't there be more?"

 Ethan let out another chuckle as he stopped outside a reasonable sized house. "About that... That'll be one of the first things you'll learn." He gestured at the house, desperate to change the subject. "Anyway, here we are. The Frye Estate. The biggest _physical_ thing my parents left me." He turned to the door as Cecily opened it. "You got a letter from them. About last night." She noticed George and smiled. "Oh, and hello, George."

 George waved at her as Ethan sighed. "Damn, word gets to them fast." George glanced at him. "Who's them?" 

 "Our Council. The leaders of the Assassins, basically, that work under our Mentor," Ethan explained. "Don't worry-you'll understand all of it eventually. It's just, they can be very wary about anything concerning Templars in his region. It makes it difficult sometimes." He sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was hoping I'd be the one to inform them I invited you in, but of _course_ they find out first. They're going to be angry again."

 "Sometimes you deserve their anger, Ethan," Cecily said. "Remember the incident in the pub?" Ethan pulled a face. "How could I forget? They didn't let me do anything 'hasty' for a month. Too bad for them," he added to George as Cecily walked inside. "I'm their most valuable asset in this area." 

 "You're their only asset," George said, and Ethan shrugged. "If I was the only one, of course I'd be the most valuable." He glanced back into the house. "But, of course, I'm not the only one. She'll never tell you that she was also there in the pub that night,  _and_ agreed with my plan until it went to shit." He looked back at George. "We always do missions together. Any, in her words,  _stupid stunt_ I do she does, partly because if I fuck up she'll be there to help, but I think she also enjoys it." 

 "You two are really close, aren't you?" George asked quietly, feeling that same jealousy again, and Ethan nodded. "A lot of people mentioned that we were. Arbaaz-he's a friend of mine in the Indian Brotherhood- mentioned that, while I was there, he could tell I missed her dearly, despite us not even being married yet." He shook his head, beckoning George inside. "Come on. I'll show you to your room, we'll eat, and then the real fun begins."


	4. Chapter 4

"First lesson: Climbing," Ethan announced, gesturing up the back wall of his house. "Something easy to start off with, don't you think? Requires a lot of upper body strength, but I don't think you'll have a problem with that." George stared up at the roof, three floors up. "I used to climb the machines when they broke, to try to fix them before the boss found out. This is pretty much the same thing, right?" Ethan shrugged. "Basically, yeah. It's just got smaller ledges than your average machine." He stood silent for a moment, before glancing at George. "Wait, you fixed the machines? Are you good with that sort of stuff?" George snorted. "If you mean just the machines they had in the mill, I was somewhat decent at fixing it. I wouldn't be able to fix a train or something like that. Too complex for me." 

 "Then you should talk with my wife," Ethan said, perking up. "She's good with machines." Cecily walked out, pulling on her robes. "I thought you were climbing?" Cecily asked casually, coming up beside Ethan. He smiled at her. "Just getting to that, love." He turned to George with the same smile. "Watch me." He turned, running at the wall and easily kicking up it, grabbing the bottom of a second floor window. He pushed himself up to the top sill, stopping for a moment, before leaping to the drain pipe. He used it to push himself to the roof, easily lifting himself over the edge. "Like a monkey," Cecily said with a quiet chuckle, and Ethan glared down at her. "I heard that."

 "It's a compliment, dear," she said, then turned to George. "Come on. I'll come up beside you. It's not hard. Even I got it on my first try, and the only thing I'd ever climbed was trees." George pulled a face. "I don't know. You've never really seen me try anything new." Cecily pat him on the back. "And when was the last time you did that? When you were a kid?" George shook his head. "No, only about five years ago."

 "That sounds like a story," Cecily purred, nudging him. "You got to tell me when we get up on the roof." George shrugged, sighing, "It's not a fantastic story." 

 "I didn't ask for a fantastic story. I just wanted one."

 "It's actually kind of sad, now that I think about it."

 "Hey!" Ethan shouted down at them. "Are you two going to stay on the ground all day?" Cecily grabbed a rock and threw it up at him. "This is important, Ethan!" Ethan crossed his arms. "What, badgering him is important?" Cecily tossed another rock at him. "Don't tell me you won't do it, too!" George let out a small laugh, and Cecily turned to him. "What?"

 "It's just," George paused for a moment, before laughing again. "You two are so close. It's cute, really. I've never really seen a married couple as happy as you two." Cecily paused, looking like she wanted to ask him a question, but stopped. "Another story for another time," she hummed to herself, before running and kicking off the wall the same way as Ethan. She looked over her shoulder at George, smiling. "Come on, slowpoke! Time waits for no man." George shook his head, before following her.

* * *

 

 He was surprised by the time it took him to scale the wall. Cecily would stay beside him, offering help and encouragement when he needed it, and it was more then he thought he would. It frustrated him, and he nearly kicked off the drain pipe if Cecily hadn't noticed. "Don't worry," she said as they made it to the roof. "You'll get better at it. Besides, you worked in a mill. I lived with farmers. Climbing houses was never a skill we needed until we joined the Assassins, was it?" 

 "I suppose not," George grumbled, looking around for Ethan. He was leaning up against the chimney, watching them in the dying light. "Good, you passed the first test," he said casually, closing his eyes. "We could practice getting down, but I'd rather chat first." Cecily glanced at George, smiling softly. "We always come up here," she said, letting out a sigh. "It's probably my favourite place in the world." She walked over, sitting down next to Ethan, leaning up against him. Ethan smiled, wrapping an arm around her. He opened one eye, staring at George. "Come on. The view's great from here."

 George stood watching them for a moment, and Ethan just pat a space on the roof next to him. "We can talk about whatever you wish up here, my friend. The only ones going to hear you are the birds and us, but the birds won't judge."  _You will,_ George thought as he finally walked over and sat next to him. He picked at the sleeve of his coat, and they sat in silence, until Cecily lifted her head off Ethan's chest and asked him, "You do know that James is coming _tomorrow_ , right?" Ethan's only response was a swear, and Cecily shifted, lowering her head back on his chest. "That's what I thought. You didn't go into your study at all today, did you?" Ethan shook his head. "Why is he coming tomorrow? I thought he didn't know George joined until today."

 "He's bringing me a new blade, remember?" Cecily said, flexing her right hand. "I broke it trying to fight off some Templar that was harassing some kids that work under him," she said, trying to provide context for George but only confusing him more. "Who's James?" he asked, and Ethan let out a sigh. "Some smug bastard that works closely with the Council. He's my superior, but he's only around your age. He also loves to piss me off." He let out another sigh, closing his eyes again. "I'm going to get a talking to tomorrow, I can feel it."

 "You'll be at the school when he arrives tomorrow," Cecily said, pulling herself free from Ethan's arm. "I'll be here training George, so we'll be the ones dealing with him." Ethan smirked at her. "Thanks for reminding me." He shifted, crossing his arms. "Any other letters for me?" Cecily smiled. "Yes, one from Arbaaz. I haven't decoded it yet, so make sure you do that tonight or tomorrow."

 "Maybe I'll teach George some of the Assassin codes while I'm doing that," Ethan said. "Arbaaz hasn't sent a letter in so long. I hope it's good news." They went quiet again, and George went back to picking at a loose thread on his coat.

 Ethan shifted again, putting his hands behind his head. "So, how do you want to die?" he asked casually, and George dropped his hand to stare at him. "That's not just something you just ask, Ethan," George said, incredulous, but Ethan only shrugged. "We're friends, aren't we? We should get to know each other better." Cecily just shook his head. "There are better questions Ethan."

 "Oh come on," Ethan said, dropping his arms. "I'll go first. I'd like to die in battle, as a martyr for the Assassin cause. I think it's an honour any Assassin should strive for." Cecily giggled. "A true Assassin born and raised you are, Ethan. As for me, I'd just like to die happy, you know? With friends and family." Ethan nodded. "Reasonable." He looked at George, an eyebrow raised. "What about you?" George shrugged. "I thought I'd be crushed before I turned fifteen, but now I'm just unsure about everything." He let out a dark laugh. "Maybe by being mugged. Or by something stupid." 

 "What kind of stupid?" Ethan asked, and George shrugged again. "I can think of a lot of stupid. Falling off the bridge drunk and drowning, stumbling in front of a carriage or train, you name it." Ethan let out a hum, putting his hands behind his head again and closing his eyes. "Good answer."

 "May I ask why you'd be that drunk?" Cecily asked, and when George didn't answer, she smiled. "Does it have something to do with that story you were going to tell me?"

 "Yup," he sighed, picking at his coat again. "First time I went out drinking, I drank too much and woke up in the middle of the night beside the river, bruised and bloody. I also think I broke my hand," he said, flexing his right hand. "I don't know if it ever healed correctly. Anyway, I still had to work, of course, but the hangover didn't stop me from drinking almost every night." He shrugged again. "Long story short, a sixteen year old went out drinking, and ended up with a drinking problem. It's a habit I still can't kick." 

 "Would explain your paranoia," Ethan said, noticing George's surprised face. "I can see the way you've been looking around, George. It's probably the mugging that made it worse." 

 "It's not that bad," George insisted. "Of course I'd be afraid after being jumped and being saved by someone who fights like  _that._ Who wouldn't?" Ethan stretched. "True, true." He pulled out his watch. "I should get to bed," he said, standing up. He smirked at George. "Now it's time for the fun part, getting down."

 He walked over to the edge. "There are two ways to get down. You either climb, or you fall. Which will be be, Westhouse?" George stared at him for a moment, then muttered, "Maybe I'll just live up here for the rest of my life." Ethan shook his head. "We can't have that. Trust me, getting down is easy. You either go down safely or you go down fast. Just watch how I do it, and remember that as long as you keep your hands on the wall you'll be fine." George gave him the middle finger, and Ethan only laughed as he pulled himself over the edge.


	5. Chapter 5

 George was exhausted, but he still couldn't sleep. He stared at the ceiling, wondering if he really did want to become an Assassin, or if it was just an excuse he was using to leave the mill. Besides, did he truly want to leave the mill, or was it the memory of his mother's voice telling him there was something bigger for him that made him leave? If he decided that the life of an Assassin wasn't for him, what would Ethan do? If he felt like he knew too much, would he kill him? 

  _Go to sleep,_ he thought to himself.  _Stop worrying yourself over trivial shit. You're an Assassin now, whether you like it or not. No more mill work for you._ He sighed and closed his eyes. At least mill work meant he would fall asleep at the drop of a hat.

 He just got to sleep for what felt like two minutes before Ethan burst in, yelling, "Wake up! I thought you woke up earlier then this!" George groaned. "I didn't get to sleep until late." Ethan sighed. "Are you still thinking this over? You're like my wife." He left the room, leaving the door open, and George heard him almost leap down the stairs.  _Where does he get all his energy?_ he thought with a shake of his head. Ethan always seemed to be ready. 

 He grabbed his shirt and slowly buttoned it up as Cecily walked upstairs. She leaned into the room and just said, "He's a morning person." George snorted. "Let me guess, you're not?" She stretched and yawned. "He was perfect for me except for that little fact." She walked off, humming. George shook his head again and stood up.  _What a wild family, these Fryes._

* * *

 Ethan was already throwing on his robes as George got downstairs. "There should be coffee left," he said, strapping on one of his blades. "If my wife hasn't drank it all." Cecily leaned her head out of the kitchen. "Says you. You've had, what, two cups already this morning?" Ethan scoffed. "You're on your third." Cecily shrugged. "I was awake later," she said, walking over. "That doesn't change anything, dear," Ethan purred, grabbing his bag. "Remember, there are three people in this house now. You can't have all the coffee." 

 "I don't like coffee," George said, and Cecily looked at him startled. "Don't like it? Or never had it?" 

 "I was about ten when my mother told me to have some to wake me up. I drank it, but I really didn't like it. I'm more of a tea person," George explained, and Cecily smiled, taking a sip from the mug in her hand. "Good. More for me."

 "I think we have tea," Ethan said, opening the door. "If not you two'll need to go shopping again." Cecily placed her mug down on the step, shaking her head. "I bought some yesterday. I had some foresight." Ethan smiled. "Good for you. Good Assassin thinking," he said, looking at his watch. "I'll be home in maybe four hours unless something else comes up, or if James is still around by then." 

 "Enjoy yourself," Cecily mumbled, grabbing her mug and walking into the kitchen. Ethan smiled at George. "Have fun training with my wife," he purred, closing the door before George could say anything else.

 "At least your first lesson isn't with the man who also teaches kids for a living," Cecily muttered as George followed her into the kitchen. "He's usually so relaxed, but while teaching he gets harsh and disciplined like he is at school." She took another sip from her mug. "It's actually a very sudden change. It shocked me the first time he did it." George sat down at the table. "It does seem interesting, though. Which one is the true Ethan?" Cecily stared at him, then sat down heavily. "I never really thought of that, actually. He tells me he acts relaxed as it's so easy to interrogate people like that, but he says he also acts harsh while teaching because that's how he was taught." She shook her head. "I don't know."

 She let out a deep sigh, taking another sip of coffee. "Enough about Ethan. We should talk about you," she said, pointing at him. George tensed. "Oh, joy," he muttered, picking at his shirt sleeve. "You worked in the mill ever since you were young, right?" she asked, suddenly growing an uncharacteristic seriousness. "How well can you read and write?" 

 "I can read a little," he said, focusing more on his sleeve.  _Why do we have to start with such personal questions?_ "It wasn't really necessary for the mill, but my mother kept saying that, if we were with her family, I'd probably be almost like a rich man's kid." Cecily nodded. "So I'll probably help you with that when we start the theory part of this," she muttered, half to herself. "But today, we'll maybe try some fighting." 

 "That's something I'm decent at," George said with relief. "I used to start bar fights all the time, both for the enjoyment and the change of pace." He ran a hand down his face. "I'm banned from one of the only pubs here, though, so that's a drawback." Cecily looked at him over the edge of her mug. "That sounds interesting. Care to explain?"

 "It's simple. Start enough fights and the owner gets pissy." George crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "I must've started, what, three before he got tired of breaking them up and banned me?" Cecily finished her coffee, smiling. "Sounds like something Ethan would do when he was younger. We met at a pub, during a bar fight." She got up, chuckling. "He nearly stabbed a man. It was quiet interesting to watch." 

 She grabbed her robes that were hanging up near the back door. "Coming?" she asked as she opened the back door. George slowly stood up, wincing as a dull ache started in his shoulders. "Sore?" Cecily asked apologetically. "Don't worry. There'll be a bunch more days like that before your body's used to climbing." George walked over, rolling his shoulder, muttering, "Great."

 Cecily led him out into the backyard, turning around quickly to face him. "So, barehanded fighting. Simple enough." She spread her arms. "But you're going to be up against a trained fighter. Think you'll be able to land a punch?" George looked her up and down. "You're not a morning person, so maybe I will." Cecily laughed. "Good answer. But I had my coffee. I'm ready." She braced her self, beckoning at him. "You can go first, so you can have a chance at beating me."

 "Thanks," George muttered sarcastically, before lunging. He tried to hit her in the side of the head, but she easily knocked his hand away with her right and slammed into his side with her left. He stumbled to the side, surprised, and she took that opportunity to punch him in the side of the head, knocking him off balance some more. She easily shoulder checked him to the ground, and dropped right after him, pinning him with her knees. "Come on," she said, engaging her left blade and pressing it against his throat, "I thought you said you were good at this."

 George winced. "I said I was decent, not good." Cecily smiled. "Soon you'll be great. Even I was pretty bad when I first joined. Ethan beat me to a pulp." She got off him and held out her hand. "Want some help?" George grabbed her hand and she pulled him up, dusting off his shirt. "So, that was the sparring part of training. Usually we always spar first and last, just to warm up and to see if you've learned anything." 

 "It a good system you got there," purred a man behind him. George whipped around, and Cecily crossed her arms. "James. What a surprise."

 "I told you I was coming," James muttered, pushing off the hood of his burnt orange robes. "Why is it a surprise?" Cecily walked up beside George, shaking her head. "Because you'll either come at three at night or three in the morning. You're a wildcard." 

 "I come when I come," he scoffed, sounding offended. He pulled a blade out of his pocket and tossed it at her. "Here's your blade." Cecily caught it expertly and quickly pulled up her sleeve. "Thank you," she purred, snapping it on. She started tinkering with it as James turned to George. "You must be the new student of Ethan's." He held out his hand. "I'm James Howard."

 "George Westhouse," he replied, shaking his hand. James sighed. "Ethan's too helpful for his own good. He's going to die of exhaustion at some point." 

 "He hasn't been going into factories lately," Cecily said, not looking up from her blade. "I know that," James said. "But he's said he's going on a couple raids soon. Maybe on the side he'll take out some gang members." He shook his head. "What will he do once he's liberated every child and killed every thug in Crawley? I fear he'd just combust without anything to do."

 "He has the school," Cecily reminded him, engaging her blade and disengaging it in a fluid motion. She dropped her arm and shook it. "Besides, what's stopping us from going into London and freeing the children there?" 

 "The Council," James snapped. "The fact that, to liberate London, it means killing Starrick. We're nowhere close to that yet." Cecily shrugged. "Me and Ethan are getting pretty close." 

 "Who's Starrick?" George asked. "The name's familiar." Cecily turned to him. "He's the new, young Grand Master of the British Rite of the Templar Order. He controls almost everything in London, and his businesses are also leeching into the surrounding areas," she explained. "Chances are you've heard of the name at one point or another." 

 "London has also been under Templar control for over one hundred years ever since the death of Miko," James said. "Don't worry, I'm sure they'll tell you all about it later," he added when he noticed George's confused expression. "The point is, it's dangerous for two young Assassins to be prancing about in there. If Starrick finds out you operate out of Crawley, you can bet there will be a huge increase of Templars here. Maybe even an attack on your house."

 "We're only running small operations," Cecily insisted. She pat George on the shoulder. "Besides, soon there will be three Assassins prancing about London." James chuckled. "Just don't take him in there right now, alright? I don't want to get a reputation of letting you get rookies killed."

 "Of course," she huffed, crossing her arms. "Who do you take me for? Ethan didn't take me to London until he was made Master a year ago." James shook his head. "I know Ethan. I don't want him to get cocky just because he has one more man." He pulled out his watch, whistling when he noticed the time. "I should stop by the school and see if I can talk to him," James said, putting it back and pulling on his hood. "I'll come back sometime later with robes and a blade when he's ready for them."

 He turned to walk away, but Cecily called after him. "Come in a month. I'm sure he'll be ready then." James looked surprised, then nodded. "Sure. See you in a month, rookie," he said with a wave, and quickly climbed up the wall of Ethan's house.

 As soon as he got out of sight, Cecily sighed. "Unfortunate. Ethan was hoping he wasn't going to have to talk to him." She shrugged. "I gave him that hope. Oh well, I just forgot he knows where the school is." George watched the point where he'd been. "His eyes," he muttered. 

 "Oh, the entire one brown one blue thing?" Cecily asked. "I don't know about that. I think it's genetic." George shook his head. "It's kind of creepy mixed with his voice. You say Ethan's a smooth talker? I've never met a man who'd talked like _that_."

 "Well, Ethan just tries to be smooth. James usually has such a smooth, creepy voice," Cecily explained. "Enough of that. You'll learn to hate him far more than by just the way he talks." She picked up a stick and tossed it at him. "Round two. This time, you can smack me with the stick. I'll be weaponless."

 George picked up the stick, glancing down at it then back at her. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" Cecily scoffed. "Of course. You'll need to learn how to fight weaponless against a sword someday, too."

 "Alright," George said. "Just go easy, okay?" Cecily shook her head. "No, the only way you'll learn is by going against someone at their fullest." She beckoned him again. "Come on, hot shot." George grimaced and tightened his grip on the stick as he lunged, fearing the bruises he'd have later on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where there's a lot of headcanons. beware if you're not much into headcanons.

 "She got you good," Ethan purred as he walked into the sitting room. George was sitting on a chair, poking a bruise around his eyes. "She took my stick and smacked me with it," he mumbled, and Cecily walked up behind Ethan saying, "You dropped it, so I took my opportunity. You did break it, though, so good for you." George sighed, sitting back in the chair. "It's not hard to break a stick."

 "It's hard when someone's hitting you with it," Cecily pointed out, and Ethan shook his head, laughing. "You two seemed to have a good day." He took of his robes, sitting down on a couch. "Sorry I was late coming home. James gave me something to do." Cecily smiled meekly. "Sorry, I forgot he knew were the school was. I should've never given you that false hope that you wouldn't have to see him." Ethan shrugged. "I got a mission out of it." He stood back up, beckoning George with one hand. "Come on, I'll tell you about Assassin code before we eat." 

 He followed Ethan to his study, which was surprising put together for the type of man Ethan seemed to be. There was a letter placed on top of a book on the desk, and Ethan sighed. "Oh, Cecily," he mumbled, walking over and sitting down. He gestured at the chair across from him, and George quickly sat down. "So, what do you want to know?" 

 "Well known Assassins," George said, poking at his eye again. "Also why you guys can't go into London without worrying about death." Ethan opened the letter, smiling. "You mean  _we?"_ George shrugged. "Sure. Why we can't go into London without worrying about death." Ethan sat back, opening up the book as he studied the letter. "Well known Assassins I can think off the top of my head... Well, there's Edward Kenway, once a pirate who became one of the greatest Assassins and Mentors to the British Brotherhood. His death started the fall of London to the Templars. He had a son, Haytham Kenway, who was raised by a Templar Grand Master after his father's murder, and he became the first Grand Master of Colonial America. His son, Connor Kenway, who saved the Assassins in Colonial America. There was a Templar named Shay Patrick Cormac, who was formerly an Assassin. He betrayed us, joining the Templars and murdering each and every member of the Colonial Assassins except for their mentor. He still has a living grandson, and maybe even family in England." Ethan shuddered. "Hopefully they didn't inherit the title of Assassin Hunter."

 "Why would he have family in England?" George asked, and Ethan sighed. "It's just rumours, but it's believed Cormac had two kids, a son and a daughter. He apparently favoured his son, hoped he'd inherit the mantle he had in the Templar Order, as he was the oldest. His daughter didn't like it and left. Apparently the last any Assassin saw of her she was settling down  _here_ expecting a child." He shuddered again. "If she joined the Order, and shared her father's skills with her child, I fear that we might have a killer like Cormac here to rid England of the British Brotherhood once and for all." 

 "How long ago was this?" George asked, and Ethan shrugged. "Nearly twenty years ago. Maybe they went back to America, or it was just rumours all along." He looked back down at his book. "It better have been rumours.

 "Anyway, other Assassins. There's Arbaaz Mir, who I worked with when I was in India. Great man, great friend. He's married, too, to a princess." Ethan flipped a page in his book. "I think they had a kid, if I'm decoding this right." He flipped back a page. "Decoding is either the easiest thing you've ever done, or it's a nightmare. No in between." George sighed. "Well, I can barely read, so it be a nightmare for me no matter what." Ethan glanced up from his book. "I figured that. Didn't have the time to learn, did you?" 

 "Nope," George said with a shake of his head. "My mother tried, but she got sick not long after."

 "How old were you when your mother died?" Ethan asked, looking back down at the book. "Ten," George said, reaching for the locket before he remembered he'd shoved it into his bag last night. "She was sick for a couple months before then, and died not long after my tenth birthday." Ethan flipped a page, asking, "So your father took care of you?" George shook his head again. "Nope, he left before I was born. Died, my mother told me, but I think she was lying." He shrugged. "Either way, she took his last name." Ethan cast him a curious glance. "Were they married at all?" 

 "Not to my knowledge," George said. "Why?" Ethan closed the book and slowly placed it on his desk. "What's in her locket?"

 "I don't know, I've never opened it," George snapped. "Why would I open another person's personal locket? Especially my dead mother's?" 

 "She gave it to you for a reason, George," Ethan said calmly. "Maybe you should open it." George glared at the floor, before letting curiosity get the best of him. He stood up and said, "I'll go get it." Ethan stood up and grabbed a book. He flipped it open, and quickly began flipping through the pages. "Bring it here. I've got to check something."

 George quickly walked upstairs and grabbed his bag. The locket was on top and George hesitated before grabbing it.  _This is stupid_ , he scolded himself, but still, why would his mother leave it for him? Did it have something to do about how she kept going on about how great he was? He opened it, and inside was a picture of an older man, no doubt dead now. He had a scar over his right eye, and despite the harsh look, there was a softness in his eyes. He took out the picture noticing a small note written on the back. All it said was 'Love you- Father'.

 He walked downstairs, nearly falling down the last step, and Cecily glanced at him from the sitting room. "What's up?" George shook his head. "Nothing." Cecily looked back at the newspaper she was reading. "Ethan's not being an asshole, is he?" George scoffed. "Depends on your definition of asshole." 

 "So he is," she mumbled. "Don't worry about it. He doesn't mean to. When he gets eager, he gets a little pushy." She flipped a page. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

 "Great," George muttered. He walked back over to Ethan's study, noticing the Assassin had pulled out another book. "Which one was it?" he mumbled, jumping a bit when George knocked on the door. "Oh, it's you," he said, beckoning him in. "I'm just looking for a picture." George felt a little uneasy as he asked, "A picture of what?" 

 "Of the hunter," Ethan answered absentmindedly. "He was Grand Master Kenway's prodigy- he obviously has a painting somewhere, and I've seen a copy of it in one of these books, but I just forget  _where_." George pulled out the picture from the locket and held it out to him. "Is this him?" Ethan looked up from the book, then fumbled for a pair of glasses on the desk. He put them on and grabbed the picture, and George snickered. "What?" Ethan asked, not looking up. "You don't seem like the type to wear reading glasses," George replied. "Why weren't you wearing them earlier?" Ethan flipped the picture over and muttered, "Because I hate them. I'm seventeen. I shouldn't need glasses." He flipped the picture back over, and he looked back at the book. He quickly flipped a few pages, before stopping and pointing at the painting of a much younger yet similar looking man in the book. "There." Ethan looked back at the picture, then down at the book. "I think it is." He held back out the picture to George. "Makes sense why she'd take your father's last name," he said lightly, closing the book. "Stop the Assassins from following her, maybe. Or maybe she wanted to leave the Templar Order behind."

 George shook his head. "No, she always used to go on about greatness, about the true ways of the world, all that. Does that sound like a Templar to you?" Ethan took off his glasses and placed them on the desk. "Yeah, it does. I haven't spoken to many Templars, but I've been told that's what they're about." Ethan shrugged. "Interesting. Interesting indeed." He checked his watch. "I should probably go help Cecily cook." He walked out, and George looked back at the picture. It was interesting, as Ethan said. He seemed so calm about the entire thing, but George had a feeling he was worried about the entire thing. Ethan didn't seem much like a chief, so George figured he probably wanted to talk to Cecily about it.  _Worried about training a Templar's son._

 He walked out of the study and checked his watch. "I need to go out," he called, and Ethan poked his head out of the kitchen in surprise. "Really? This late?" 

 "It's not too late," George said, putting on the locket. "Besides, I'll be quick." Ethan looked worried, but all he said was, "Okay, just be back before six-thirty, okay?" George checked his watch again. Six. That didn't give him much time, but he tended to be pretty fast. He figured he could make it. He grabbed his coat and quickly pulled it on as he stepped outside.

  _I can cut by the mill, that'd save sometime,_ George thought, and he started running. When he got near the mill he slowed down, watching as some of the workers left, their shifts over for the day. He recognized some, especially some of the ones that had grown up in the mill with him. Some he might've called friends at one point. One of the workers, one he'd been close with, looked around, before slumping his shoulders and heading off towards town. George quickly stepped into a side street, hoping that he never saw him. Better he left the attachments of his old life behind, so he wasn't drawn back into it.

 He jogged towards the river, turning left and heading down towards his old house. When he opened the door, he was surprised to find that nothing had moved, then nearly smacked himself.  _Nobody would come in here. Why would they?_

  _Unless, of course, they're worried about my whereabouts, so they check out my house,_ he countered himself, before remembering no one he worked with knew where he lived. The only other people who knew where he lived were his mother, and, now, Ethan. He quickly walked over towards his room, pulling open the drawer on the bedside table. He pulled out an old ring box, opening it to make sure it was the one he wanted.

 The ring was simple, bearing only a red cross on a white circle. His mother never usually wore it, and only showed it to him once. The man in the picture, Shay, had the same cross on his robes. So he guessed there was no doubt about it now. His mother was a Templar.  _Should I really be an Assassin?_ he wondered, then remembered that, according to Ethan, his grandfather had been an Assassin before becoming an Assassin, which meant, technically, he was of Assassin heritage, too. He closed the ring box, sighing. Ethan was going to have his doubts about training him, more so if he showed him his mother's ring. Besides, by becoming an Assassin, couldn't that mean he'd change some of what his grandfather had done? He put the ring box back, closing the drawer slowly.  _Let the scavengers find it._

 He quickly left the house, this time keeping the door unlocked, and he started to head towards the mill again. He checked his watch, before swearing and sprinting off.

* * *

 "Where have you been?" Ethan asked as George burst in. "You're late!" 

 "Only by fifteen minutes!" George snapped. "Besides, it was important!" 

 "What kind of important?" Ethan asked. "Templar important?" George stared at him as Cecily walked up behind Ethan. She grabbed the back of his neck and wrenched him backwards. "Ethan! Don't be an asshole!" He let out a cough. "It was a joke!" 

 "A stupid joke at that!" she snapped, and turned to George. "Ignore him. You weren't raised a Templar, just like how I wasn't raised an Assassin. Loyalties can change." Ethan pulled her hand off the back of his neck. "Yeah, that means that you, theoretically, could go Templar!" She slapped him. "Why would I want to be a Templar? Why would George want to be a Templar? They nearly killed him, for God's sake." Ethan nodded. "That's true. I'm just teasing, love," he said, noticing her expression. "You're bad at it," she snapped, and George couldn't help but laugh despite how tense he felt. 

 "See? He agrees," Cecily said, hitting his shoulder. "Come on," she beckoned George with a hand. "Dinner's almost ready, and afterwards we'll train some more."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you may be asking 'Shine, why did you make George's Shay's grandson?' and I'll tell you why in the simplest way I can: someone on Tumblr said 'I believe Shay's George's dad as they're so similar' on one of those confession blogs and I have nothing against that, but given that Shay'd be like 80 something when he's born I highly doubt he'd been having a child. So, the next logical line of progression is grandson, and I couldn't get that out of my head.
> 
> sometimes it's nice loving characters with very little in game info- you can headcanon pretty much whatever you want and canon will never tell you otherwise.


	7. Chapter 7

 "You messed it up again," Ethan mumbled from underneath him, and George nearly slammed his fist into the middle of his back. "How did I mess up this time?" Ethan shifted his head so he could speak clearly. "You keep hesitating with the blade. Remember, a moment of hesitation, of thought, can mean death. Think before, during the planning, not when you're about to stick a blade into a man's throat."

 "It's not like you can fight back," George grumbled, and then he let out a yelp as Ethan surged upwards, knocking him to the ground. Ethan quickly turned the moment he got to his feet, and dropped onto George easily. He engaged his left blade and placed it to his throat. He smirked. "You were saying?" George tried to push him off, but his muscles were stiff from training the day before. "You did pretty well otherwise," Ethan continued, amused. "The jump was a little off target, but you got the timing right." He got off him and pulled George to his feet. "Try again, and this time don't be afraid to press the blade to my throat. If you nick me, that's fine. Cecily's good at first aid." George looked over to where Cecily was working in the garden, muttering to herself. Ethan looked over and called out, "I took out most of the weeds after dinner yesterday after I watered, but I think there's some more over by the fence." 

 George snorted. Ethan didn't seem much like it, but he loved his garden. Not Cecily's garden, he'd insist. His garden. Ethan glanced at him. "What are you laughing at?" he asked, and George smirked. "You and your garden." Ethan crossed his arms and said defensively, "It's a nice garden." He picked up a leaf and tried to throw it at him. "What are you waiting for? Get up the house and try to kill me." George picked up a rock and threw it. "A please would be nice."

 "I don't really think pleasantries are needed when asking for death," Ethan responded coolly, turning his back to George to watch Cecily. George scoffed, and quickly climbed up the back wall. He'd gotten far better at it, much to his pleasure. He'd even gotten better at reading. Fighting was a completely different story, however.

 It'd been about three weeks since he'd joined the Assassins, and his progress with fighting was painfully slow. He knew Ethan must've felt the same way, but he was calm about it, only saying calmly, "Too much haste is too little speed" whenever George would try to bring it up. So he stayed silent, slowly getting more frustrated the more days that passed.

 As he got to the roof, he paused for a moment to catch his breath. He loved it on the roofs. It was so peaceful compared to the streets below. He watched some pigeons fly off from a couple roofs over as Ethan yelled, "Are you ready yet?" George walked over to the edge of the roof. "I will be when you stop talking!"

 Ethan shook his head and chuckled. "Okay,  _Mentor,"_ he said mockingly, but fell silent afterwards. George crept over peeked down over the edge, trying to judge the distance. After a moment he leaped, dropping down on Ethan, who just fell with his momentum. George quickly pinned him, and swung his arm back. He engaged the Hidden Blade Ethan had given him, and he plunged it down at his neck, stopping just as the tip hit the back of his neck. "Better," Ethan mumbled. "A little less hesitation this time, but it was still there." George got off him, sighing. "I thought I got it this time."

 "You're new at this," Ethan said with a smile. "At fighting, even. Don't worry about it. 'Too much haste-'" 

 "'Is too little speed'," George finished. "I know, I know, it's just hard." Ethan titled his head to the side. "What, the learning part? Because that's supposed to be hard." George shook his head. "No, the fact you're five years younger than me and yet you could easily snap my neck before I would be able to react." Ethan smirked. "Ah, pride." He wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get over that in time. Either that or your pride'll be the motivation you need to be like me." Ethan dropped his arm, looking over towards Cecily. "Hey," he called, and she looked over her shoulder. "What?"

 "Are you nearly done there?" he asked, and Cecily stood up. "I've been done for a bit." She looked back down at the garden. "I was just looking around at what's growing and what's not." Ethan shot George a smile. "Good," he said, not looking away. "We're going out." George titled his head to one side. "Are you sure? It's getting late. Besides, I thought you'd want to keep training." Ethan shook his head. "You need a break from that. Sometimes I tend to hate the repetitiveness of training." He stretched. "That's why I love the classroom. Sometimes it can be repetitive and boring, but most of the time it's something new. New material, new students." He shook his head again. "Enough of that." He glanced at George. "What time is it?"

 "Around four, if I had to guess," George told him, pulling out his watch. "Yup. Just after four." Ethan crossed his arms. "Good." He pulled a face. "I'd have liked to hit the pub afterwards, but I've got to go to the school tomorrow," he muttered. George started unstrapping the Hidden Blade. "Where are we going, anyway?" Ethan smirked and nudged him. "You'll find out once we get there."

* * *

 

 Ethan lead them both through the streets, humming to himself. George walked beside Cecily, surprised about how odd it was to be without the Hidden Blade despite only wearing it for the afternoon. "Do you know where he's taking us?" He asked, glancing at Cecily. She nodded, smiling. "It's amazing, trust me." George's shoulders slumped. "And you won't tell me either?" Cecily glanced at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Of course. It's a surprise after all."

 Ethan had gotten a bit ahead, and he was waiting near an old factory, leaning casually on the wall. As they got closer he said, "Meet you up top." He started climbing, and George groaned. Cecily smirked. "What, have enough of climbing yet?" George shook his head. "No, I just hurt from all the training we've been doing." Cecily nudged him playfully. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it," she purred as she turned and followed her husband up the wall.

 George watched their movements, trying to plan out a route, before breathing a curse and following them up. He stopped on a window sill half way up, hissing. Cecily peaked over the edge of the roof. "Are you okay?" she asked, and George just nodded, trying to catch his breath. She said something to Ethan, before looking back down and saying, "Just take your time. The roof isn't going anywhere."

 "Unless it rots underneath us, of course," Ethan said loudly, and Cecily turned back to him. "Shut up," George heard her say. "Whatever you say usually ends up being true." 

 "I'm just observant," Ethan retorted, and George laughed. "You two's arguments are ridiculous sometimes," he called up, and Cecily looked back down. "The ridiculous things are the only things we tend to argue about," she said, before backing away from the edge of the roof. George sighed, smiling as he pulled himself up and began to scale the wall again. 

 Once he got to the top, he placed his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. "Why does this wall have to be so high?" he rasped, and Ethan walked over to him with an apologetic smile. "Don't worry, there are walls higher then this you might have to climb someday." George grimaced as he straightened up. "Why do you always point out shit like that?" Ethan pointed at Cecily. "Like as I told her, I'm observant." He walked away, raising his arms. "This is the tallest building in Crawley," he announced, whirling around to face George and Cecily again. "The view from my house is nice, yes, but this can't be beat."

 George walked over beside him, watching the horizon. "Not bad," he mumbled. Ethan shot him a look. "Not bad? This is probably the best view you can get in Crawley." He let out a long sigh. "But this height would get you almost nothing in London." Cecily walked up beside Ethan. "I wonder what the view from Big Ben looks like," she mumbled, staring off at a point on the horizon. She nudged Ethan. "Maybe once we take him into London, we should climb Big Ben." George let out a loud groan, but Ethan smiled. "Why not, love? I've always wanted to try." Cecily leaned on his shoulder. "I think it'd be a romantic view," she purred. Ethan cast her a loving glance. "Of course. Being up that high, all the sights you could see at once..." his voice dropped off as he let out a chuckle. "The Council would be so pissed."

 "They wouldn't have to know," Cecily reminded him, and Ethan rested his head on her arms. "Oh, but they'll find out love. They always do." They watched each other in silence, and George just stood awkwardly watching the city. He was surprised at the jealousy he felt, and he began to mentally berate himself about it as Ethan glanced at him. "Okay, let's take a small quiz while we're up here," he said, lifting his right hand. He started calibrating his blade as he asked, "What are the three tenants of our Creed?"

  _Easy question_ , George thought. It was one of the first things they taught him, and they made sure he knew it. "Stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent. Hide in plain sight. And never compromise the Brotherhood," he said in a monotone voice. "But I've been thinking about something about it." Ethan glanced at him curiously. "Oh?" 

 "Say I kill someone who was doing shitty things. Normal, right?" George said, crossing his arms. "But what if the Council sees them as innocent? What if I am the only one who knew what he's done? Would I be seen a traitor to the Creed, or would they side with me?" Ethan shrugged. "I don't know about that, but if you do kill someone they see as innocent despite your objections, I will stand with you. You may not be of Assassin heritage, but you're one of us now. Brothers stand with brothers." 

 George glanced at his arm, and started picking at a thread on his sleeve again. Ethan watched him for a moment, before asking, "Okay, what's our saying?" George lifted his head, sighing. "Nothing is true; everything is forbidden." He shook his head. "I can't explain to you how much that confuses me." Ethan nodded. "It confuses most people, especially those born outside the Brotherhood, but as you stay with us, you will learn its meaning." 

 "Does everything have to be hidden in this Brotherhood?" George muttered. "The blades, the point, the reasoning behind it. Why?" Ethan shrugged. "I wish I could answer that. It has something to do with our beginning, I think. All the way back when this Brotherhood was just an idea." He glanced at George. "Besides, if we were not hidden, we'd be dead." 

 "The Templars are not hidden," George countered. "So why do we have to be?" 

 "But they are hidden," Ethan reminded him. "They have civilian livelihoods like us. Starrick runs a business empire, I'm a schoolmaster." He shook his head. "This is a hidden world of temples and council chambers. Think about it. You never learned that your mother was a Templar until a couple of weeks ago. Never knew your grandfather was a mass murder who destroyed a Brotherhood. You would have never learned if you never met me."

  _There's a couple things I would have never learned if I had never met you. Things I'd be happy to live without._ "I suppose you're right."

 "Can we stop talking about stuff like that and just enjoy the view?" Cecily asked. "He'll learn stuff tomorrow." Ethan shot her a smile. "Of course, love. Just making sure he knows." Cecily snorted. "Of course he knows. We drilled it into his head." George let out a sigh. "Thank you, Cecily." Cecily smiled. "No problem," she purred, and the three of them fell silent.


End file.
